


World of Ruin, World of Rain

by its_pronounced_wiener_slave



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Confession, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Love Confessions, M/M, Praise Kink, alternative lubrication, bottom Ignis, is that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-09 10:48:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8887939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_pronounced_wiener_slave/pseuds/its_pronounced_wiener_slave
Summary: When Noctis returns to Hammerhead after his decade long slumber inside the crystal, he seeks the company of the person he trusts most in this world.*MAJOR spoilers*





	1. Rainfall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only the SECOND chapter is explicit, and chapter one stands alone. If you'd like to avoid the smut, chapter one is sfw!

Noctis steps inside the dimly lit caravan after realizing they were a man short, leaving Prompto and Gladio outside to argue jovially over a game of King’s Knight. He finds Ignis within, clear on the other end of the trailer, perched on one of the beds built into the back wall. He knows Noctis has entered, of that the Prince is sure, and he tilts his head in his direction as if to offer him his attention.

“Sick of me already?” Noctis jokes, not exactly laughing but the smile evident in his voice. He was made uneasy by Ignis’ sudden absence, unable to shake the feeling that something was amiss. It’s true that they’d been separated from one another for many devastating years, but he’d hoped nonetheless that Ignis had not changed so much that Noctis could no longer read his moods.

“You’ll have to try harder if that’s the goal,” Ignis responds in jest, but his tone is humorless.

His face is turned towards Noctis but he’s not looking at him, not really. His glasses catch the light in a way that forces Noct to shift his stance to avoid the glare, bringing Ignis’ eyes into focus. Noctis tries not to draw in a sudden breath.

The scars. He’s not used to them yet. In his mind, the name _Ignis_ still conjures up a mild mannered, impeccable man of decent fortune; all pleasant smells and bright eyed wit. But the wounds claw over his eye, sharp, extending like grotesque fingers down the angular jut of his cheekbone.  He gazes slightly to Noctis’ left, eyes clouded and yet still astonishingly beautiful. The sight of this man haunts him.

“It’s alright,” he says quietly, voice unexpectedly softer than before. “For you it must only seem like yesterday. I can assure you it’s not nearly as bad as it looks, and I’m well aware that it looks rather ghastly.” He laughs for no other reason than Noctis’ benefit, and it comes off as a little pitiful.

“I’m sorry, Ignis. I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just…seeing you is overwhelming,” Noctis rubs the back of one arm, growing anxious as his heart tightens into a knot in his chest. “ _All_ of you, I mean,” he adds nervously.

“Yes, I suppose seeing you again might be overwhelming for me as well.” Ignis is completely still, tone bordering on dreary at this point, and Noctis is at a loss for whether or not he’s telling jokes anymore. He snorts in response, trying to mask his mounting confusion.

“Forgotten what I look like?” Noctis hums amiably, knowing that he sounds sad despite his attempt to stay light hearted. “Come on, we’re not that old yet.”

Ignis is quiet for a while, a long while, and Noctis can sense something changing in him—changing between the both of them in fact—as if the nature of the caravan itself was transforming, or that it was somehow transporting them someplace far away from Hammerhead. Noctis is jarred from his thoughts when Ignis shifts his position, canting his head away so that only the scarred side of his face is exposed.

“How could I ever forget your face when it is all I have seen for these past ten years,” he murmurs under his breath, and though Noctis is barely able to hear the words, they sink deep into his flesh like wretched daggers.

Noctis’ eyes darken as he realizes the extent to which the full weight of his absence has choked this world, this man, to the point of near death. He aches with grief and guilt, then again more guilt when he contemplates how little he has suffered compared to the people he left behind in the gnashing maw of utter darkness. He peers out the window between the blinds, catching Gladio’s eye. They share a knowing glance before Noctis reaches over the dirty stove and twists the blinds shut, blocking out yet more light.

“Ignis,” he says, taking a few steps forward until they’re not a foot apart. The blinds against the back wall were still twisted open, casting bluish streaks across Ignis from behind. Kneeling, Noctis places a hand gently on the other man’s knee, cognizant of the way the unanticipated touch sent a jolt of emotion across Ignis’ face. “I’m _so sorry_ to have left you. I’m sorry for what I have to ask you to do.”

Ignis stirs, his composure clearly weakening, and Noctis suddenly grasps why he sought a moment of solitude. A moment in which he’s currently ensnared.

“ _Noct,”_ Ignis exhales, expression sorrowful. “Don’t you _understand?_ You can ask of me anything in this world and the next.” He raises his right hand, wrapped tight in a leather glove, and touches his fingertips to Noctis’ cheek, as delicate as could be. Noctis has to bite back a gasp at the sight of Ignis, who expels a ragged sigh as he presses the tips of his fingers into Noctis’ skin, then his palm, clearly searching; mapping the subtle changes in his master’s face so that he might update the image of him in his mind’s eye.

Noctis curls his fingers around Ignis’ wrist, wanting to comfort him but not wanting to rush him. His warm feelings for Ignis had only intensified over the years together, and now all Noctis could do was imagine what the years apart must have done to his adviser.

“I wish I didn’t have to ask anything,” Noctis says honestly. “I’ve accepted what’s to come, but it’s difficult to keep dragging you guys down with me.”

“You are my charge, Highness,” Ignis replies, almost mocking his own dutiful tone. “It is now and has always been my deepest desire to serve you.” He lifts his left hand, placing it against Noctis’ other cheek, thumbs gingerly caressing, absentminded. He hangs his head, laughing spitefully, the uncharacteristic nature of it giving Noctis pause. “Actually, that’s a bit of a fabrication, isn’t it? At least, it’s a misrepresentation.”

Noctis furrows his brow, puzzled, and Ignis must have felt the change in expression. Lifting his head, his eyes meet Noctis’ in a way that takes him aback; for a second he could have sworn there was a spark of sight there, gleaming behind the milky haze of blindness.

“To think I’ve waited all these many years simply to touch you again, knowing what that means.” Ignis pulls Noctis a little closer, resting their foreheads together. He closes his eyes, thoughtful, and Noctis is almost sure Ignis can hear the pounding of his heart with his heightened senses. “What kind of man must I be?”

“You’re a good man, Ignis,” Noctis whispers, feeling something raw and real wash over him as he places both hands over Ignis’.

Ignis nearly snorts, shaking his head a few times, forehead still plastered to Noctis. “I think not. If it would just keep you _safe_ ,” he trails off briefly, threading his fingers through the length of Noctis’ hair until his hands rest at the nape of his neck, “I’d return you to the depths of the crystal. As much as I have longed for the sound of your voice, there’s a part of me that would see this world plunged into darkness if it would spare you this final cruelty.”

Noctis swallows hard, trying desperately to put up a front that he knows Ignis can see through, even as a sightless man, and the front itself seems utterly without purpose anymore at this late hour.

“Ignis…you’ve given up _everything_ for me. How can you,” his voice hitches in his throat, catching him before he says something that might displease Ignis. He clutches him by the wrists, unmoving, still compelled to hold back words he’s running out of opportunities to say.

Ignis pulls away from him suddenly, the few inches he puts between them seeming more like a chasm Noctis feels the urge to leap across. He has a tender look in his eyes, never having been the type for pretense in the past anyway, but utterly exposed to the bone in this fleeting moment. This moment; in this damn near dark trailer that they’d crammed into a hundred times in the past.  

“Noctis,” his voice is rich and even, familiar. “I have loved you nearly all the days that I have known you. I’m afraid I have fought for you selfishly. And selfishly, I will follow you.”

Without thinking, without words, Noctis leans forward until their lips are touching, warm and soft, and their arms tangle around one another so that they’re pressed close together, chest to chest. Ignis exhales heavily, positively undone, before returning to Noctis’ mouth, tongue sliding inside as smooth as satin. Noctis tastes him for the first and last time, savoring him, heart fracturing more and more with each breathless, hungry sigh from Ignis.  

Noctis doesn’t know how long they stay there, suspended in whatever dimension that dirty caravan transported them to, kissing and touching and whispering forbidden words. He half expects Gladio or Prompto to walk in at any moment, but they don’t. The dim light that failed to properly illuminate the trailer flickers, then burns out.

Outside, it starts to rain.


	2. Rain's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when the light goes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter is smutty & angsty (and slightly irreverent for a sec), so if you like the end/soul crushing finality of chapter one, feel free to avoid whatever this chapter is!*

Rain.

It began to fall in rhythmic sheets, battering the outside of the caravan, blurring the view from the small window and swallowing up any sounds that might threaten to escape from within. The effect only served to make the space seem even more isolated and peculiar, as though the Hammerhead outside might be the Hammerhead of some mirror universe as yet unmaligned by daemons and darkness.  

Noctis almost wished it so.

He rises slowly from the warmth of Ignis’ body, having nestled into the hollow between neck and shoulder to place errant kisses there, hiding them away as if for safekeeping. They’d stripped away layers of clothing like each article represented a year lost, and in Noct’s haste to feel the heat of another human’s skin he’d pushed Ignis back against the bed in order to clamber atop him, leaving them both clothed from the waist down. Now he perches quietly in the man’s lap, hesitating as electric blue light spills into the dark trailer from the vigilant spotlights outside. He gazes down, thoughtless, silently chasing after the words he immediately lost track of at the sight of Ignis.

The ambient glow falls harsh on him, casting the left side of his body in shadow. He stays perfectly still beneath Noctis, brows slightly knitted in a look of concern and lips parted, drawing in controlled, even breaths. The way he appears to fix his eye on Noct—a sudden shock of light in the darkness—nearly causes Noctis to forget Ignis’ blindness altogether. Here, scars conveniently hidden by tricks of light and dark, he almost looks like the man he used to be.

“ _Don’t,_ Noct,” Ignis softly commands, motionless. Despite his efforts to keep calm, Noctis can see him swallow hard, choking down something clearly impending. He smiles despite himself, inspired that Ignis can still see truth, even after ten arduous years; even without sight.

“Sorry, I’m doing it again, I know,” Noctis responds warmly, shifting his weight and averting his eyes, regardless of the fact that the subject of his scrutiny would be none the wiser.

“So full of apologies, spoken and otherwise,” Ignis says in his austere lilt, the one that could melt the very heart of Shiva herself. “What will you give me as penance?” he asks with a smile that was merely a gentle quirk of the lip.

Noctis takes in a breath, lightly placing both palms flat against Ignis’ stomach. He’s surprised by the way Ignis nearly jumps at the touch, reminded again just how exposed the man has become; or perhaps how exposed he’s allowed himself to be, for Noctis can’t recall a time when Ignis ever appeared even close to this vulnerable.

“Nothing of worth. I wish I could give you back what you’ve lost.”

Ignis balks at the response, turning his head towards the window and fully illuminating his scars in doing so. Noctis winces at the markings, feeling an acute shame pierce his heart for having so little control over his reactions. It’s clear to him Ignis is displeased.

“ _Please_ , Noctis. I haven’t mourned my sight in quite some time,” he fixes his gaze in the direction of the window as he speaks, and Noctis isn’t so sure it’s due to displeasure alone. “Even…even as images began to fade. There was a time when I could draw upon the memory of your face so clearly that I could count the lashes on your eyes.” He falls silent for a long time; long enough that Noctis isn’t sure he’ll continue speaking at all, but just when Noct opens his mouth to interject, Ignis stirs, inhaling ragged. “I could never forget you, not entirely,” Noctis is sure now that Ignis’ eyes reflect welling tears, “but pieces became less sharp. Blurry. I struggled to put you back together whole. Eventually, the only thing that remained crystal clear was your _smile_ ,” he says with a gasp, a sudden hitch in his throat.

“ _Ignis,”_ Noct whispers helplessly, trying to stop what he’d inadvertently began.

When Ignis turns to face him once more, a single tear breaks free, streaking silently across his face. “Even so, I haven’t mourned the loss of my sight. Not until today.” He lifts a hand carefully, searching, and Noctis takes it in both of his own, softly pressing Ignis’ fingers to his lips, eyes burning all the while.

“I’d do _anything_ to ease your suffering,” he replies in a hushed tone, splaying Ignis’ fingers apart so that he can bury his face in the welcome warmth of the man’s palm. Ignis doesn’t respond right away; he simply allows Noctis his few moments of brooding. After a long silence that was only broken by the sound of rain spattering against the window on a sudden gust of wind, Ignis fidgets ever so slightly beneath him, sighing.

“There was never a night that passed that I didn’t ask for mercy.”

Noct’s eyes are clenched shut, grip tightening around Ignis’ wrist. “You deserve much more than that.”

“Not for myself, Noct.”

Noctis stills, slowly opening his eyes to absorb the full experience that was Ignis, half bare beneath him, expression heavy with longing. He becomes anxious over the passage of time, suddenly desperate to shower all of his attention on Ignis; to make sure he knows that it’s undivided. Leaning forward, he braces himself over Ignis’ body, humming gratefully when Ignis’ other hand slides up his chest and over his clavicle, resting at the nape of his neck.

“I have suffered, yes,” Ignis murmurs, some of the anguish having drained from his voice. “You’ve never been the cause, however. If anything, you were hardship’s only salve. It’s your damned destiny, Noct,” he finds Noctis’ mouth, runs a thumb over his bottom lip. “It’s the one thing from which I cannot protect you.” His eyes are cast down, vacant, and something about the way it looks makes Noct’s heart throb.

“I won’t mention any of it again. We can just stay here, Ignis. Even if it’s just for a little while, we can forget what’s outside,” he curls down, pressing his forehead to Ignis’ and shutting his eyes. “We can pretend there’s time.”

Ignis kisses him eagerly, grip so tight on Noctis’ face and neck that he swears he can feel the pulse in his fingertips. Noctis returns the kiss, nipping hungrily at Ignis’ bottom lip to make up for the lack of attention his hands could give as they still propped his body up. The heat low in the pit of his stomach rises sharply, giving way to an intense desire the likes of which he’s never known. He readjusts his position, sinking down into Ignis’ lap to free his own hands which spared not a moment before they took to roaming the bare skin of the man’s body. Ignis was still fit, surprisingly so, and the pleasant give in the muscles of his abs and chest made Noctis feel almost frantic.

The rain falls harder than ever, one strong downpour seemingly without end, nearly drowning out the way Ignis sighs beneath the pressure of Noctis’ amorous advances, already overwhelmed. When Noctis twists his hips just so, they press against one another hard as stone, and Noctis can’t catch the groan before it escapes his throat. Emboldened, he rocks against Ignis, coaxing a keening gasp from him that Noctis almost takes into his mouth. The second time he snaps a little harder and Ignis grasps him by the hip, exhaling nervously.

“ _Noct_ ,” he says with a voice that’s almost all breath, “surely they’ll come soon; the rain,” he nods in the direction of the window, but the flush in his face betrays the diplomatic concern he exercised simply as a matter of course.

Noctis brushes his lips over Ignis’ scarred eyelid before kissing him there, maintaining a steady rhythm as he grinds their bodies together.

“I don’t care,” he replies, hanging his head low so his mouth hovered near Ignis’ ear. “Don’t ask me to stop,” he sighs heavily, breath hot against Ignis’ skin.

A satisfied moan escapes Ignis as he lifts his hips to meet his charge, all of his restraint and hesitation falling away with but one small request from Noctis.

“I can’t count the many times I’ve dreamed of hearing you saying something similar,” he sings into Noct’s ear, committing both hands to the task of gripping him by the hips, guiding him to the most amenable path to gratification for the both of them. Noctis winces as the pleasure heightens, appreciation swelling so greatly in his chest that he feels he may burst. Ignis keeps his eyes, lidded as they are, fixed in Noct’s direction, and the way his lust has crept across his face strikes Noctis as a thing of utter beauty. He wants to share the sentiment, to tell Ignis that he’s the rarest, most alluring creature he’s ever laid eyes on, but the words simply fail to form in his brain. Instead, he keeps to his movements, aiming to communicate through his body what he was failing to illustrate with words.

Ignis curls his fingers into the hem of Noct’s pants, raking his hands down his thighs and taking the trousers with them. Noctis gasps suddenly at the exposure.

“ _Noct,”_ Ignis purrs, “enough of this. I want to feel you.” Obsequiously, Noctis raises up, still compelled to heed his advisor’s words, allowing Ignis to pull what remained of his clothing from his body, at least until Noct had to shift awkwardly to finish the task himself. Once free, he undoes Ignis’ trousers, peeling both layers of clothes from the man and tossing them aside, perhaps a touch more neatly than he did his own.

He looms above Ignis yet again, this time apprehensive, feeling something inside he couldn’t quite place. Admiring the elegant lines of Ignis' body, he licks his lips absentmindedly, trying and failing to ignore the way Ignis’ swollen cock sent a searing heat pulsing through his veins. Yet again, his silence lingers too long, and Ignis stirs anxiously, making himself all the more distracting.

“What is it?” he asks, sounding a bit fearful.

Noctis shakes his head at the knit in Ignis’ brow, almost laughing. “I-it’s nothing. You’re just…you’re really stunning, Ignis.”

Ignis responds by biting his own bottom lip, a gesture that puzzled Noctis. He wraps his arms about Noct’s neck, drawing him so close that their bare cocks brush against each other, the feeling of which nearly makes Noct’s arms buckle. Ignis bends his legs at the knee, and suddenly Noctis is surrounded by him, overpowered by his growing desire.

“You implied that you’ve no intention of stopping,” Ignis says against his lips, soft. “So _don’t._ ”

The need in his voice lights a fire inside Noctis’ chest, and he reaches down between them to grasp Ignis in his hand, coiling his fingers around him one by one and pulling, releasing only at the sound of a surprised moan from Ignis. Ignis’ hands are promptly at his face, caressing, brushing against Noct’s tongue when he swipes a fingertip over his lips. The taste of his skin brings Noctis to life all at once, animating his body and inflating his confidence. He strokes Ignis steadily with one hand, extricating himself from the man’s grasp to sit back between his legs and rest his other hand on his inner thigh. Ignis shudders, draping his untasked hands over his own belly, writhing every few seconds in Noct’s iron grip. In his escalating throes, he fails to notice Noct’s free hand snaking further down his thigh until he jerks with a sharp gasp.

“ _Noctis!”_ he inhales through clenched teeth, rearing up onto his elbows.

Noctis regards the hungry look in his eyes for a moment, the way his toes are dug into the bedsheets, the way his chest heaves in anticipation.

“What? You told me not to stop,” he says through a warm smile, tightening his fist again and brushing his fingers once more over that same spot that sent a jolt through Ignis’ body seconds prior. It elicits a similar reaction, but this time without much objection. He strokes Ignis with both hands until he lets out a broken cry that seems to surprise even him, as he clamps a hand over his own mouth, face reddening ever further.

“Noct, if we’re going to…to _do this_ , I’ll need you to retrieve something from my satchel.”

“Where is it?” Noctis asks, perplexed, but he rises from the creaky bed when Ignis points to the narrow closet between themselves and the kitchenette. He slides the door open, feeling rather stupid digging through everyone’s hastily packed bags completely naked, aware again that the others could appear at any moment. He hurries a little faster. Ignis directs him to the correct bag without shifting positions, but it would’ve taken a complete idiot to fail to tell Ignis’ things from the rest. His bag wasn’t only the most expensive and the cleanest, but it was filled primarily with cooking materials, a fact that made Noctis almost giddy with amusement.

“You’ll know it when you see it. It’s the only glass bottle in the bag.”

Noctis tries to rifle through the bag gingerly, knowing that despite Ignis’ blindness, this bag was packed with utmost care and attention to detail, but he was sure he was botching the task nonetheless. When his fingers find the neck of a cold glass bottle, he pulls it out and looks over it, curious.

“Iggy,” he turns the bottle toward him, immediately realizing the futility in the gesture. “This is cooking oil.”

“I’m well aware,” Ignis replies matter-of-factly.

“You want to… _use_ this?” Noctis asks incredulously.

Ignis sucks his teeth, returning to a conversational tone. “Well, it’s not my first choice, no, but it’s natural. It’s quite safe.”

Noctis can’t stop himself from making a face as he crawls back onto the bed between Ignis’ legs, bottle in hand. He’s dubious, but far be it from him to ever question Ignis’ knowledge, and he was anything but willing to give up on what may very well turn out to be his last moments alone with this man.

He coats his fingers in the oil, which actually smells quite pleasant, and folds over Ignis’ body, taking his cock in hand as he presses kisses into his stomach and chest. Ignis is still propped up on his elbows, eyes someplace far off, breath coming heavily again when Noctis’ fingers find him and push inside, breaking the tight ring of muscle with relative ease. Noctis is amazed at the heat of his body, compelled by Ignis’ affectionate sighs and impassioned moans to search deeper inside him, and deeper still, until the sighs turn to gasps and the moans become even more drawn out. Noctis lifts his head from Ignis’ chest long enough to indulge in the downright intoxicating expression on Ignis’ face, his astonishingly beautiful face, and is overcome by the compulsion to speak that hadn’t been present earlier.

“ _Ignis_ ,” he coos, voice sugary with adoration, “you’re so beautiful. You’re _perfect._ ”

Ignis sobs, fists clenching the sheets at his sides, rendered immobile by the weight of the words as they drift around him like a heady perfume.

Noctis withdraws his fingers from Ignis, seizing the bottle of oil from where he tossed it onto the bed. He pours a little too much of it onto himself, but commits to it anyway, drawing a fist down the length of his cock to make sure he was adequately slick. When he clutches Ignis again with the same hand there’s an obvious difference, and Ignis rocks his hips into the touch even as Noctis guides the head of his cock toward Ignis’ center, sliding inside with a single stroke. The steady clench of Ignis’ insides makes Noctis immediately lightheaded, as does the sharp wail that issues from his throat once Noctis is seated inside him, stretching him past the point of comfort despite the prep. He collapses onto his back, one hand digging hard into Noctis’ shoulder while the other still grips the sheets for purchase.

Noctis huddles close to him, kissing his face with sympathetic concern, whispering praises into his ear about how good and patient and beautiful he is, how well he’s doing, how much he’s cherished. He repeats these gestures earnestly until he senses Ignis moving, raising his hips into Noctis, eager for him to continue.

Noct’s first stroke evokes an outright whimper, a sound that makes Noctis so warm in the chest he feels he might die then and there, sheathed inside what’s probably the only person left in this wretched world that truly loves him.

 _He loves me,_ he thinks as he moves again, then again, until he’s not keeping track anymore, not whispering sweet words or reading signs from Ignis. He’s simply heaving over this blinded, blessed man that for some reason loves him unconditionally, for some reason, after everything they’ve been through and after all the dangers they’ve narrowly survived. After everything Noctis has wrought on the people in his wake.

_He loves me._

They come together almost silently, gasping for air as the world crashes down around them in cacophonic waves of rain.

Noctis pulls out of Ignis, knowing they’re both a mess, but suddenly conquered by the reality of everything; by the bitter rancor of his raw emotions. He presses his mouth to Ignis’, parting lips with a restless tongue as a tear falls onto Ignis’ face.

Ignis pushes a palm into Noct’s chest, forcing their mouths apart.

“Noctis,” he says, but he’s cut off when the tips of Noct’s fingers meet his lips.

“It’s alright, Iggy.”

The rain ebbs almost completely.

_He loves me._

The caravan light flickers once, then comes back on.

_“I love you, too.”_


End file.
